The First Marauder
by mischiefremanaged
Summary: As Remus' mother prepares to marry the renowned and feared werewolf Fenrir Greyback, her secrets begin to unravel as he uncovers the truth about her unborn child.
1. Chapter 1

A harsh, guttural growl awakened the small boy. He blinked sleepily, his eyes struggling to adjust to the heavy darkness. Staring into the black, he found his eyes locked on the hulking figure crouched over him. As the creature leaned forward to administer his lethal bite, the child screamed.

"Ha, muggle television is so awful compared to ours," sighed Mrs Lynch, sniffing contemptuously as she changed the channel. Her daughter Cedrina stared blankly ahead. She had barely paid attention to the film, distracted as she was by her parents heaving sighs and obvious distain. Cedrina herself had not found the film awful, but the creature in it painfully reminded her of someone she yearned to forget- her fiancé, Fenrir Greyback.  
She had little doubt that Fenrir loved her. He always had, despite her plain appearance and aloof attitude. Yet she simply could not love him back. She, alongside many other wizarding children, had been raised shunning and fearing werewolves. Cedrina knew that despite his condition Fenrir was a caring man, gentle, a man who loved her dearly. But her old prejudices remained, and she could not look past his lycanthropy. She had repeatedly shunned his advances, his proposals, his declarations of love, until her family intervened and accepted on her behalf. They were eager for the prestige of joining the Greyback clan, and the notorious reputation they upheld. Cedrina wasn't. And now the marriage was set for a months time... just before a full moon. Cedrina shuddered delicately at the thought.  
Almost as if he had read her mind, there was an insistent tapping on the front door, which Cedrina recognised immediately as Fenrir. She stayed in her seat, sinking low into the soft upholstery.  
He entered the room swiftly, barging past her mother as soon as she'd opened the door. Sinking low to his knees before Cedrina, he grasped her wrists, his sharp fingernails cleaving marks into her skin. She yelped in pain and attempted to shrink away from him, but his hands held her tight and she couldn't break his grasp. Staring into his pockmarked, scar riddled face, she could see nothing but anger. And then, in a voice closer to a growl than any she had heard, he whispered, "I know about you and John Lupin"  
Cedrina began to tremble. A lock of her mousy hair fell into her eyes, shielding her from Fenrir's penetrating glare, and hiding her ashen face from view. She attempted to answer him, but her words caught in her throat. Eventually she managed to choke out, "I... I don't know who you mean."  
Fenrir sneered, his face contorted by an ugly grimace. "Acting dumb as dumb as you look, princess? Well, sweetheart, let me remind you. Don't you remember him?! That muggle from down the road. The farmer. Poor as dirt!" he yelled, spitting on the floor in rage.  
"I... I still don't know who you mean. I've never seen him before..." Cedrina stuttered.  
"Don't fucking lie," Fenrir roared, as he paced the room, "I always see you staring at him! Handsome, isn't he? You wouldn't mind marrying him, would you? You'd prefer it, in fact, wouldn't you? The plain pureblood winning the heart of a manly muggle! Well guess what, sweetheart? It isn't fucking happening! You might've slept with that muggle, but you're still mine, no matter how slutty you are! And that little halfbreed you're expecting... well, let's just say I'll sort that out when the opportunity arises."

With that, Fenrir placed a single, gentle kiss upon her forehead, but it felt wrong. Possessive. She struggled to suppress a shudder. As he left the house, a gust of wind extinguished the only candle in the room, plunging the young woman into darkness. She sat there for what felt like an age, staring into nothingness, her hands grasped protectively over her stomach. She simply couldn't fathom how he knew. She had told no one, not even John. The baby was her secret, a comfort that she clung to. The comfort had gone. She just felt sick to her stomach.

Her mind felt clouded with worry, but one thing occurred to her. She had to tell John. But whether or not he accepted it, she had to flee. She simply could not stay. Fenrir had made it clear what he intended to do to her baby, and she knew with every fibre of her being that she would not allow it.  
Pulling a traveling cloak tightly around her shoulders, Cedrina cast one last terrified glance round the dark room. Satisfied that she was alone, she heaved a great sigh, and with a loud crack vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

She landed in the dark, damp room. A small candle, flickering nervously from the table, highlighted a small puddle which had formed in the centre of the room. Cedrina made her way unsteadily across the room, clambering over upturned chairs and shattered belongings. When she finally reached the puddle, bile rose in her throat and made her retch. Blood. The scent curled up her nose and distorted her thoughts, clouding any rational thought.  
Stumbling away from the horrific sight which greeted her, Cedrina ran from the room into the darkness outside, retching and coughing to erase the taste of bile from her mouth. Clasping her figures to her stomach, she felt a gentle kick from the baby which grew inside her. It seemed to comfort her, for her breathing steadied and some colour returned to her face. Slowly but surely, she returned to the devestation, which was all that remained of John Lupin's home.  
The dirt floor was slick with blood, and the walls were splattered with scarlet. Her hand quivered as she retrieved her wand from her pocket, and in a shaky voice, Cedrina muttered "lumos" under her breathe. A warm glow lit the room, yet it jarred with the sight it made visible. Pots and plates had shattered all over the wall, littering every surface with shards of crockery. The armchairs had been overturned, and stuffing was oozing from the savaged cushions. A mirror had been smashed, and the shards glittered like dust on the floor below.  
"Seven years bad luck" Cedrina whispered sadly into the silence. She stood still, glaring around the devastation. An uneasy silence lay like a smothering blanket on the room. And then, so quiet she could barely hear it, Cedrina heard a small groan.

John Lupin lay near the door, his knees curled up to his chin. His short brown hair was matted with blood, and his clothes saturated. A pale sheen of sweat illuminated his face, a gentle shine which highlighted a mask of pale. He struggled to open his eyes, and they flickered nervously when he saw Cedrina. He seemed to be choking on his words, coughing and spluttering as he struggled to verbalise his pain. Eventually, he managed to nod gently at her, and she made her way towards him slowly, nauseous at the sight before her. "He... he knows, Ced. H...he came here, and, and he did this. I... I c-can't move my leg, Ced. A...and everything h-hurts. B-but if I'm d-dying, I'm g-glad I'm... with you." he whispered.

"Don't talk like that, John," Cedrina sobbed, tears gushing down her ashen face, "you aren't going to die. Of course you aren't. You can't! You have to stay with me John, you have to!" She began stroking his matted hair, smoothing the tangles and feeling the soft, warm tendrils under her fingers. He sighed contentedly.  
"B...but look at what he did. A-at first every...everything h-hurt. B-but now, I'm just n...numb," he muttered, clasping her hand tightly in his.  
"John, don't you dare think like that," she wailed, shaking her head in disbelief at the idea of him slipping away. She pulled her hand from his and began to fiddle with a strand of his hair. An uneasy silence fell between them. Finally, John coughed weakly, and Cedrina's words began to tumble out.  
"I... I have something to tell you. I've been hiding it from you, I just... I didn't know how you'd react. I was a coward, and now it might be too late. John, I've been keeping a huge secret from you for months because I didn't know how you'd react, and..."  
John's face, already lacking in colour, turned ashen. His grey eyes pierced her brown ones, as if he was staring straight into her soul. Eventually he choked out, "w...what is it, Ced?", his voice weak.  
"I... I wanted to tell you. I did. But I was scared, and... I'm having a baby, John." she whispered.

John blinked heavily, and a dazed expression crossed his face for a moment, only to be replaced by a dizzying happiness mere seconds later.  
"A baby? You... you're pregnant?" he stuttered, his face breaking into a huge grin.  
Cedrina only nodded. John continued to stare at her, as if he was drinking in every detail of her face, like he could never see her enough times. And then his grip on her hand slackened, and his eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. He was gone.  
Tears began to well in Cedrina's eyes, leaking out and dribbling down her pale cheek. Her lips quivering, she bent down and placed a delicate kiss on John's lips, slick with blood. Then, although she knew all hope was futile, she began muttering any curse she believed would help.  
"N-n-no," she moaned miserably, "you can't be dead John! You can't! E... Episkey! N-no, of course that won't work, his leg isn't broken... he's just lost so much blood. Anapneo! Reparifors... why isn't anything working? You can't die John... you can't!"  
John remained motionless on the floor, still as bloodied and savaged as before. The steady rhythm of his heart had faded to nothing, and his face looked almost childlike in death, a look of utter peace upon his face.

"Vulnera sanentur..." Cedrina began to moan, but it sounded like a hauntingly beautiful song. Sobs threatened to choke her as she continued saying "... Vulnera sanentur, Vulnera sanentur," to her lover's body.  
The gashes across his chest and throat began to lose the vivid red shade they had once held, and his savaged leg seemed to be repairing itself. The blood which bubbled out of his lips began to evaporate in scarlet clouds, and colour returned to his cheeks. Cedrina continued to chant, waving her wand at any visible gash on his body. She could almost hear his heartbeat growing stronger, tentative at first but becoming steadier with each beat. Her sobs subsided as each gash disappeared, and soon, his body seemed to never have been attacked by Fenrir Greyback.  
With a heaving sigh, John Lupin sat up.


	3. Chapter 3

Cedrina flung herself into his arms, struggling to contain her sobs of joy. They sat together, entwined for what seemed like an age, lost in each other. Finally, John pulled away, and staring into her eyes, he said softly, "Cedrina, I nearly lost you then, but I promise you, that will never happen again. I want us to be a family, me, you, the baby. I want to look after you and protect you forever. And I love you more than words can say. Ced... will you marry me?"

Cedrina barely had time to nod before someone began pounding on the door. A loud, insistent knocking, exactly like the one barely an hour previously. She sat frozen, her muscles tensed, as the werewolf continued his insistent knocking on the door. John clambered to his feet, looking slightly unsteady but relatively unharmed. His face was set with determination though as he turned to answer the door.  
"No!" Cedrina yelled, before clasping her hand to her mouth. The knocking paused briefly, and silence flooded the room. Then it resumed, even more violent than before. The door was beginning to shiver on it's hinges, and it would not hold Fenrir out for much longer. John looked at Cedrina, his face distorted with terror. He mouthed something at her, but she could decipher it.  
"What? I can't hear you, John," she sobbed over the incessant banging.  
"Go! I know you can! Just apparate... for the baby. Please, just go Ced. I-I'll be fine," he said, pausing to swallow hard before continuing, "I love you."  
"I'm not leaving you John, we can both get out of this," she cried back, before grabbing his hand. With a sound like a gunshot, they disappeared.

A small arch, entwined with fragrant and delicate rosebuds, stood proudly before a small congregation. Beneath it stood a young man, his face lit with an infectious happiness. His messy brown hair had been tamed for the occasion, but a few strands stuck up at the back. He was still pale, appearing slightly lucid in the warm summer light, but his cheeks were flushed with joy. He was grinning from ear to ear, and his face seemed more childlike than ever. Standing in a borrowed suit, slightly ragged at the edges, John Lupin took a deep breath, and turned to face his bride.

He carefully took her hand in his. Lifting her lace veil from her face, Cedrina stared at her love. He still had some faint scars from his encounter with Greyback, and he had a prominent limp which would never recover. But his deep brown eyes betrayed no ghosts, and had lost the haunted look they'd both carried for too long.

John in turn stared at his bride. Her mousy brown hair had been plaited at the nape of her neck, and was secured by a small clip encrusted with pearls. Her dress was simple, white cotton which fell to the floor in gentle waves, and she wore no jewels. And yet, she glowed with happiness, her eyes vibrant and lively as she stared at John. One of her hands grasped his tightly, and the other lay gently over her prominent bump. As they exchanged their vows, it seemed as though everyone and everything slid out of focus. It was just them, and their baby, against the world. The man they had run from for the past few months barely crossed their mind.

Applause broke out as John and Cedrina took their first kiss as man and wife. She turned to thank the vicar for being there, especially in such unusual circumstances for a muggle, and then prepared to erase his memory. As she looked at his docile, friendly face, she found her parents prejudices all the more disgusting. Muggles were people too, albeit ones less fortunate than herself, and she struggled to understand the prejudices she had once held. The vicar gave her a puzzled look at she raised her wand at him, but it was quickly replaced by a dazed expression as she muttered the spell.  
She felt a sharp tap on her shoulder, and turned back to John. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his panicked expression, the terror that filled his eyes. He struggled to choke out his words, his breathing wheezy and short.  
"L-look over there. Gr... Greyback. He's h-here," he wheezed, clutching his chest with one hand whilst gesturing wildly with the other.  
Staring into the distance, Cedrina could barely see what he meant. The sun was swiftly setting, and the light was much dimmer than before. But there, crouched behind a tree, was the unmistakable form of Fenrir Greyback. Even from a distance, it was easy to distinguish the long, greying hair and pockmarked skin of her former fiancé. They had not seen hide nor hair of him for months, and yet he appeared on the night of their wedding.  
Cedrina began to tremble in fear, as the air around her began to shiver and dance. She felt cold, despite the balmy summer sun, and goosebumps appeared on her arms and legs. He was back.  
As suddenly as she went cold, warmth flooded back to her. Looking down, she saw that her entire dress was soaked. Unable to comprehend what was happening, she continued to stand, frozen, gazing at Fenrir, until a piercing pain ripped through her.

Cedrina sank back into her pillow, her eyes fluttering with fatigue. Her hair was stuck to her scalp with sweat, and her breath came out in short, sharp breaths. John sat next to her, a small infant bundled in his arms.  
The baby had been born mere moments earlier, yet he was alert and aware as he gazed up at his father. He already had a soft down of brown hair upon his head, and it stuck up in curly tufts. His eyes were wide, the same shade of grey as his fathers, and were inquisitive, soaking up every aspect of the room. He was a small baby, slight, with an ashen pallor and sickly appearance, but he seemed healthy. His father was gazing down at him lovingly, when Cedrina cleared her throat.  
"I can't decide on a name. I think he should definitely be called John, but... he doesn't look like a John. I've been toying with a few Roman names, and Remus seems to suit him quite well. He looks quite... wolfy, don't you think?" she asked quietly, desperate for John to contradict her.  
"He does a bit, I agree. You don't think?... no, it can't be. Babies don't just get born with lycanthropy. He's just a bit sickly, is all. But... Remus John Lupin sounds good, doesn't it?" John replied, not taking his eyes from his newborn son.  
Cedrina nodded gently, too fatigued to answer, as John bent down and lovingly kissed Remus on the forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

The air seemed to shiver and dance as he approached, quivering gently as the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the dark, dank alleyway. Looking around the gather his bearings, he growled quietly. They were here. He had found them at last.

He glared around the quiet street. A muggle glanced at him briefly, then hurriedly crossed to the other side of the road, head bowed and eyes averted. He was used to that, for his face was a striking mess of scars and scratches. His hair was overgrown and peppered with grey, and he had acquired a whiskery beard. His papery skin had a yellowish tinge to it, as did his overgrown nails. Time had not been kind to Fenrir Greyback.

He swiftly walked through the street, keeping his eyes to the floor as he struggled to avoid his long, flowing robes. His foot caught briefly, and he tumbled to the floor, cursing furiously under his breath. Sweeping his robes behind him, he stumbled to his feet and continued his furious pacing. It wasn't dark enough yet.

Eventually all light flooded from the sky. The darkness betrayed nothing. Every few moments, lights from the neighbouring houses were dimming, yet the lights of 36 Hoary Road remained as bright as ever. Fenrir grew impatient as the night stretched on. He considered sneaking into a nearby house and ravaging one of the local children, but he decided against it.

He could wait.

Eventually the lights shuddered and dimmed, flickering slightly before the light dimmed from them. Greyback grimaced, his face animated with grim satisfaction. Prowling forward towards the door, he lifted his wand arm and muttered "Alohomora."

The door swung opened gently, as if a slight breeze had opened he entered the house, his heavy boots disturbed the old wooden floor, and a moan echoed through the house. Fenrir jerked back, straining into the silence to hear what he had disturbed. No one seemed to stir, so he continued, albiet more cautiously, further into the house.

The stairs creaked and moaned as he crept up them, whining as if they already knew his plan. Glaring around the dimly lit landing, he struggled to decide which door to go through. Making towards the nearest one, he placed his gnarled hand upon the doorknob, only to jump back as if scalded. The door was marked "Ellen", and clearly wasn't his target. He sniffed cautiously, and his nose filled with a soft scent of milk and baby powder. It was tempting to him. Placing his hand back on the doorknob, he crept into the room.

The floor was littered with baby toys, and clothes spilled from a nearby wardrobe. He dawdled idly towards the cot, pausing only when he reached it. A baby lay in the crib, a little girl with raven black hair and pale skin. A sweet smile played on her mouth, lost as she was in her dream. Fenrir studied her for a moment. She barely resembled her mother, and yet... if he bit her, she would be his. He could raise her away from her family, and maybe one day... his thoughts trailed away.

He sniffed deeply again, and his nose filled with the scent of another child, an older one. Fenrir grinned viciously to himself, all thoughts of the baby girl lost. Creeping from the room, he followed the scent to another, slightly larger chamber. The room was in the same state of casual disarray, toys littered with abandon over the threadbare rug. Fenrir almost tripped over the toy broomstick strewn in the centre of the room. The scent of the boy grew stronger with each moment spent there. He was sleeping on the other side of the room, his bed almost covered by toys and teddies. He had tangled himself in his blanket, his arms bundled within the soft eiderdown.

"Easy prey," Greyback muttered.

He leant down towards the boy. He looked completely peaceful, his eyes flickering occasionally. His breath was shallow, little puffs of air which tickled Fenrir's whiskers. His soft down of mouse hair was lying across the pillow, and his face looked deathly pale against the white bed sheets. He was a small boy, Fenrir thought sadly. He wouldn't be much use, but... revenge would be sweet.

A harsh, guttural growl awakened the small boy. He blinked sleepily, his eyes struggling to adjust to the heavy darkness. Staring into the black, he found his eyes locked on the hulking figure crouched over him. As the creature leaned forward to administer his lethal bite, the child screamed.


End file.
